‘And if it’s not only the Vicaress out there looking, then we need to be prepared for anything.’ I pulled out some springs and wires I’d taken from one of the trinket shelves. ‘And what good is an Inventor who’s out of practice?’
Chapter Nine
Split didn’t mention the missing vials of Glassland Dream. I think he was rather consumed with the effort of not passing out or vomiting up his morning rations of dried figs and Khatnuts.
Cam, Shilah, and I had spent the night taking turns as lookout, and not only had we all grabbed a few hours of deep sleep, but we’d managed to make it to morning without being eviscerated. Eventually we woke our Shepherd – who flailed and sputtered back to reality – and made sure to leave the canyon before Sunrise, always heading North.
Split was talking a little louder than normal and digging a pinky into his ear from time to time, but he managed to keep pace and his hands weren’t trembling. The fact that he wasn’t burying his head in the sand or staring at us as if we were demons in Jadan form told me it probably wasn’t the first time the Pedlar had come down from Glassland Dream. He was shamefaced towards me, downright mean to Cam, and he ignored Shilah altogether.
Since Split didn’t ask about the vials, I didn’t offer an explanation. Instead he insisted we keep quiet on the journey, but soon we were talking of small things that wouldn’t worsen his headache, like the kinds of rocks and gemstones that could be found out in these dead sands. He made sure to point out fossils of ancient creatures that he’d discovered on previous Marches, leftover impressions in certain boulders. I mulled over these physical memories from times that pre-dated the Great Drought, and the glimpses into the past that they gave me. There were small, shelled fossils that looked like flat beetles, willowy plant-shaped rods, and a few single bones. When we reached a low pass that dipped into the land, Split pointed out the indentation of a large skull that sort of reminded me of Picka, if her snout had been longer and she had fangs. Split assured us those kinds of creatures were long extinct, but still I imagined they were the type of thing that lived deep underground, having long ago taken refuge from the Sun. These were the creatures the older Jadans whispered about on warm nights in the barracks, when the young ones couldn’t sleep. I’d heard enough tales of wraiths, the Saberdim, Hookmen, and sheedimah to have shivers of fear run up my spine at the sight of the skull. There were more terrible things than taskmasters lurking in the dark places of the World Cried.
We snaked North through rocky valleys, and talked of the different kinds of merchants that used the Khat’s roads – the ones we were actively avoiding – to transport goods and Cold to the Northern cities like the Glasslands and the City of David’s Fall. Split knew a lot of the trading lines, left over from his peddling days. He had intimate knowledge of the stretches the caravans used, which came in handy while trying to remain unseen. Eventually we ventured into more important conversational territory, as Split asked about recent events in Paphos, and I told him of the Cleansing and the Opened Eyes everywhere. He quickly changed the subject to his favourite kinds of Jadan pottery. I asked about the puppet once, at which Split’s lips clamped shut faster than a scorpion trap, his whole body clenching and giving off a distinct sourness.
We used beige parasols as camouflage, and so the Sun wouldn’t burn our skin, and we stopped to drink Cold water and have rations every hour or so. On the second day we stopped less frequently, our supply pouches withering down. The Abbs kept our bellies filled with as much Cold water as we could take, but the machine couldn’t make food, so we had to keep moving. We made good time across empty stretches of stone and sand, Shilah leading almost as much as Split. Cam demanded that he be the one to use the thinnest of the parasols, and he did his best to block the sky, but his poor Noble skin was crisp and red all over, and his little vial of groan salve didn’t last long.
We accidentally encountered a few other travellers filtering towards our destination, almost exclusively caravan merchants. Apparently, Gilly’s Tavern was one of the most popular drinking establishments on this side of the Singe, which seemed an odd place to host a stop on the Coldmarch, but Split’s confidence didn’t ebb even as we got into more populated areas and had to travel on more open paths. He always assured us that he had his methods to remain inconspicuous, and we ended up seeing these rather bold manoeuvres implemented whenever anyone came too close to our group or turned devious eyes towards the cart.
‘Friends!’ Split would yell, waving his arms and whistling. ‘Let me sell you my cart! I’ve got fantastic goods, all cheap! So cheap! Let me sell you my slaves, too! So cheap! The Khat’s personal stock. These are the ones that rub honey on his feet. Just a few Shivers for the lot! Fine, a few Drafts. Please, just come closer and look! I’ll sell you my camel if you just come closer!’
Without hesitation the caravan merchants would always snort and turn away, silently going about their business. Split would drop to his knees and howl, pleading with the passersby just to take a look, saying things like: ‘These goods are too cheap to be passed up on, you damn fools! You’re all making a grave mistake!’
‘Why don’t they stop?’ I’d asked him after his method worked the second time, my heart beating wildly. ‘You’re High Noble. This doesn’t make much sense.’
‘There are different rules out here,’ Split had said, winking at me. His left eyelid sagged a bit, having trouble coming back up. ‘A desperate Pedlar? It’s supposed to be the other way around, so it looks very suspicious. A Pedlar would never sell his only camel, and the Khat never lets go of his personal Jadans, so when I say these things it makes me reek of lies. We could be planning an ambush.’ Split kicked up some of the thin sand that gathered on the Khat’s road, staring at the Coldmaker. ‘Just like the world itself.’
‘Why wouldn’t they just try to take advantage of a desperate man?’ Cam had asked. ‘They are Nobles after all.’
Split gave him a look as if Cam was about as dumb as they get. ‘Because, if the caravans leave us to die, then they can just come back later and scavenge the cart and all the stuff for free. No hassle.’
‘Charming,’ Shilah said.
Split grunted, digging a pinky in his ear, not meeting her eyes.
Eventually I showed him the machine.
I hadn’t been at all sure how he was going to react. He kept referring to the Coldmaker as a chest of ‘golden tears’ and not asking any further questions. I had begun to realize that he assumed I’d found the thing somewhere in the ground, already stocked with the Abbs. My instincts told me that I shouldn’t leave him ignorant as to how it worked, especially since the more people who knew the truth meant the greater chance for its survival, and eventually I decided to take the gamble.
On the third night of wandering I opened the bag and explained.
‘So the Frost sits in the Cold Charged water,’ I told him, pointing at all the parts. I’d made the bronze lid so it was removable, as long as the person knew how to manipulate the Belisk puzzle box which I’d built in as an obstacle.
Split’s face was alder red. ‘The Cold Charged …’
‘We put scoops of salt into the water first,’ Shilah said, ‘and when the Cold dissolves, the salt and Cold battle each other, life and death at odds, making a charge that can be harnessed.’
The Pedlar nodded.
‘But since Frosts don’t dissolve,’ I said, ‘the water constantly keeps the charge.’
‘And that’s Jadan blood,’ Shilah said, pointing to the vial that drops the bead into the catch-point. ‘Spout’s for now, mine next when it goes dry.’
‘Why in the Crier’s name would you put your blood in there?’ Split asked.
I shrugged. ‘That’s just how it works.’
Cam shrank into himself, becoming uncharacteristically quiet.
‘Okay,’ Split said, his lips cracked and dry. He pointed to the vial next to the Frost. ‘And that one?’
‘Tears,’ I said.
The Pedlar paused, blink
ing far more than was necessary. ‘Tears?’
‘Yes,’ I said, too excited to linger. ‘So when I turn the machine on, these gears here let out tears onto the Frost, which causes this crazy reaction where it pulls Cold in from every side—’
‘But we lined the bronze with lead,’ Shilah said, leaning in and tapping the inside walls. ‘Which keeps the pull restricted only to the one spot. Oh, and also, it has to be Jadan tears.’
Cam mumbled something, going over to Picka and scratching her behind the ears. ‘She looks tired. Long day.’
The dwarf camel brayed happily at his touch, and Shilah gave Cam a curious look.
‘And that’s how it works,’ I said simply. ‘That’s how you make Cold.’
I closed the lid back up and flipped the machine on. All of a sudden the air around us changed, swirling and pulsing, and a golden bead formed at the catch-point.
‘Impressive for a skinny little slave with a lizard bite, huh?’ Cam asked with a smirk.
Split wobbled a little on his feet, blinked, and then passed out, falling slowly to the ground.
Shilah dashed over and checked the Pedlar’s pulse, giving me a shrug over her shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, he’s still breathing.’
‘Sorry,’ Cam said, turning to me. ‘You know I meant Jadan, not slave. I was just using his own expression from before, so—’
‘I know,’ I said, putting a hand on his shoulder. ‘And it was funny. Let’s get some sleep.’
The following morning, we revived our Shepherd and immediately he launched into dark giggles, looking anywhere but at the machine. He kept us moving across canyon and deadlands as fast as the cart would allow, not talking or looking back over his shoulder. The pace was blistering. A few times blood started leaking from his nose, but I never saw him snort any hidden stash of Dream, and his eyes were clear.
Night fell once more, and at last our destination eventually came into view. The timing couldn’t have been better, as we were down to our last scraps of food. Split’s house had been bare to begin with, as he only went to the nearest House Suth trading post once a month to get his Cold and food stores replenished. We’d shown up a few days before he was due to resupply. This meant we were running dangerously low on rations, and I’d begun debating whether or not to hunt the deeper dunes for sand-vipers that we might cook and eat. This would have been dangerous in more than one way, since not only could the snakes kill with a single bite, but they preferred living around patches of cloud sand, which looked normal until the dune’s surface billowed apart and plunged unlucky wanderers into an inescapable chasm.
Thankfully the building of our salvation rose against a backdrop of craggy hills, tilting from the earth like a loose tooth. Gilly’s Tavern had simple mudbrick walls, big enough for perhaps a dozen rooms for lodging, but right away I could see that the refuge from the Sun itself wasn’t the main attraction.
A thin stream jutted out from the stony hills behind the building, making a slight twist and heading back underground. The small body of water looked near steaming, but the top of it wasn’t crusted with heat bubbles like the rivers Singe or Kiln, which meant rations scooped out of this stream would take less Cold to make it drinkable. A stream like that, already hidden from the Sun for quite some time, meant that travellers could make a Wisp act like a Draft. I opened the lips of my bag and wondered what a single Abb could accomplish with such a water source.
Shilah put a hand on my lower back, leaning in close so only I could hear. ‘Let’s get in and out, I don’t have a good feeling about this place.’
I whispered out of the side of my mouth: ‘It’s part of the March. We’re obviously not the first Jadans to come here.’
She shook her head. ‘Maybe it was part of the March. I’m not so sure what our guide here is thinking. Just stay close to me.’
Split snapped his fingers, and Picka came to a halt. I gave a quick glance at the bottom of the cart near the wheels, making sure my newest little invention hadn’t come untied. The rolled-up scroll – with special alterations – was still in place. I’d tied it to the cart with what Leroi had dubbed an ‘Assasiknot’. I needed the invention to be easily accessible, but not have it jar loose at the first bump. Once again, Leroi’s teachings were paying off, even though I was no longer by his side. There could be no finer sign of a good teacher.
‘I just want you to know,’ Split said, scratching the rough scruff on his neck, his eyes still red. ‘I been thinking about it. And, well, I guess I’ll be your damn Shepherd.’
I paused, giving him a confused look. ‘You already are.’
He turned away and crouched to his knees, picking up a flat stone and balancing it on top of another. He stewed in his silence, picking up more stones and heightening the stack. ‘No, I mean, the rest of the way. I want to take you there. To Langria.’
Shilah crossed her arms, but I could tell a smile waited behind her lips. ‘I thought you said you were only in charge of this stretch of the Coldmarch.’
‘Things change. And I know the way.’ He cleared his throat and looked at Shilah. He didn’t glance at her, or peek, but finally met her eyes straight on. ‘Please. And besides, rumour had it that Boahz moved to the City of the Stars.’
‘Who’s Boahz?’ Shilah asked.
Split looked away, to the hills about the tavern. ‘He was in charge of the next stretch of the March. He always took the Jadans from here.’
‘And you’re just telling us that now?’ Shilah asked, her hand inching towards her hip.
‘I told you that earlier,’ Split said, his words speeding up. ‘That I was only going to take you this far. I told you that. I’m sorry, but I did tell you.’
Shilah crossed her arms. ‘Yeah, but—’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ I said. ‘If he wants to take us the whole way now, he can take us the whole way.’
‘You’re not going to murder us in our sleep and take the machine, are you, Split?’ Cam asked with a straight face and a deadpan tone.
I nudged Cam’s ribs with an elbow, giving him a look.
‘What?’ Cam asked with a shrug. ‘It’s important information. Especially since …’ His words trailed off as he gave an over-exaggerated scratch of his thigh.
Split stood up, the stone tower toppling. ‘What can I do to prove myself?’
‘Swear it on the puppet,’ Shilah said, jabbing a finger at the cart. ‘On your Baba Levante.’
Split’s face lit up with both shock and dread. ‘You know about Baba Le— the puppet? How do you know about that?’
‘You showed it to us in the chamber,’ Shilah said, not missing a beat. ‘The puppet is on the bottom of the cart as we speak.’
Cam raised an eyebrow, wiping the sweat off his brow. ‘How can you not remember? You did the crazy voice and everything? You called yourself rotund.’
Shilah waved Cam off as if he were an annoying beetle, her eyes narrowing. ‘Split. Swear to Baba Levante that you are on our side, that you won’t sell us over to the Khat, and that you’ll take us where you say. To Langria.’
Split swallowed hard, looking at the cart. ‘I really brought the puppet along? Out into the open?’
Shilah didn’t let him waver. Even under the shade of the parasol, her eyes glistened like jewels. ‘Swear it.’
Split nodded without hesitation. ‘I swear it on the strings and buttons and woollen hair and wooden heart. Okay?’
‘And on whoever she belonged to,’ Shilah said, her words slicing the air faster than her blade ever could.
Split met Shilah’s eyes again, his face going pale. ‘Yes,’ he said quietly, his thick hand flexing in front of his thigh but not scratching. ‘Salt in my tears I swear on whoever she belonged to.’
Shilah turned to me, completely relaxed. ‘Good enough for me, he can be our Shepherd.’
I returned an innocent shrug. ‘I never had a problem with him in the first place.’
Shilah smirked, staring at the beast. ‘Mostly he can stay so we can k
eep Picka.’
The little camel grunted, stamping her feet and buzzing her fuzzy lips; again I was left questioning whether the beast understood more than we thought.
Split nodded, his eyes moistening at the corners as he looked me square in the face. ‘The world’s been waiting a long time for you, Meshua. Doesn’t mean they’re going to be ready. They’re going to try to kill you. And truth be told they’re probably going to Sun damn succeed.’
Cam clapped a hand on my shoulder. He still smelled overwhelmingly of rosemusk. ‘That’s what I’m here for. To jump in the way.’
Shilah crossed her arms, but she didn’t argue.
Split gave a derisive snort. ‘A High Noble brat jumping in the—’
‘Listen, Pedlar,’ Cam said in cutting tones, letting the parasol fall, his face wincing against the sudden splash of heat. ‘I know you’re important to the Coldmarch and all, but don’t forget that you’re High Noble too. If you’re going to be our Shepherd, I’d like for you to show me a little respect. It was me who offered Spout a safe place to hide when the Vicaress was after him. It was in my tinkershop that he built the machine. And I may never have taken a Jadan to Langria, but I think it proves that you’re not the only one of us who cares.’
Shilah put a hand on Picka, stroking the fur along her hump. ‘It belonged to your uncle.’
Cam frowned, his face glaring red from passion and burns. ‘Hmm?’
She didn’t look at him when she spoke. ‘It was your cousin’s tinkershop.’
Cam took a deep breath, trying not to lose his patience. ‘Yes, I know. But it was also the Tavor tinkershop. And since I’m the heir to the Tavor— was the heir—’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ I said quickly, feeling so irritated I thought I might scream. ‘I wouldn’t have found the secret and built the machine without either of you. And Leroi, too.’
Shilah looked somewhat placated, and Cam’s face had gone even redder, which I would have thought impossible.
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